Proof that Mycroft Holmes Has a Heart
by Chibi StarLyte
Summary: Mycroft writes letters to Sherlock while pondering on the fragility of life. Not that he ever intends to send them. T for mentions of drug use. Fill for the Sherlock kink meme.


This is a fill for the following prompt on the Sherlock kink meme:

**When Mycroft first came to grips with how dangerous his 'minor' position in the government was, he decided to bow to convention and write a farewell note to the most important person in his life (read: his brother) should anything happen.**

**As the years go by, he writes updated versions, but the spirit remains the same.**

**One day, Sherlock finds one of these letters.**

As I continued writing, these letters turned to more general writings than actual farewell letters. My bad. XD

This has been beta'd by my wonderful friend and beta Akiame9. Shower her with affection! However, this has not been Brit-picked. I did the best I could on that front, so if you notice any glaring Americanisms that need to be fixed, please let me know!

Note: for the purposes of this fic, in the present day (2012) Mycroft is 44 and Sherlock is 37. Sherlock's birthday is January 6th, and Mycroft's birthday is February 12th (And apparently John's fanon birthday is March 31st, which is also my birthday! Cue me flailing and screaming in happiness).

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Sherlock. I merely borrow these characters for my own nefarious purposes.

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**6 January 1998**

_Dear Sherlock,_

_Three days into my newest promotion and already I've had to dodge several bullets intended for me. I suppose I should acclimate myself to such situations, as I'm sure they will frequently occur, much to my displeasure._

_In light of these recent events, I have deigned it appropriate to leave you this letter, should anything happen to me._

_I write this to you, today, on your twenty-third birthday. We haven't spoken since your twenty-second, and I am unsure that my normal means of contacting you will work. You've always been clever in avoiding me. Therefore, I suppose this letter will suffice. _

_Happy birthday, brother._

_I hope you have many more to come, even if I may not be around for them._

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

Envelope sealed, addressed, and marked with postage, Mycroft placed the letter into an empty drawer in his brand new desk and tried to erase its existence from his memory.

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**25 March 1999**

_Dear Sherlock,_

_An older sibling is not supposed to watch a younger sibling pass on before him. Especially with a career such as mine, in which my life is threatened almost daily._

_Yet I'm sat here in the A&E waiting for news from the doctors. It was only a matter of time before you'd overdose. I really wish you would stop this stupidity, Sherlock. I want to help you, but my attempts would be as fruitless as ever. You've always been too stubborn to accept my aid._

_I swore I would protect you from harm, even with the risk of my own life on the line. I still try to hold true to that promise, even when you make it impossible to do so._

_You are not supposed to die before me, Sherlock. Get that through your incredibly thick skull._

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

The sheet of paper with Mycroft's perfect penmanship slid into the innermost pocket of his briefcase, forgotten, as the doctor approached the elder Holmes with a sad smile.

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**18 November 2001**

_Dearest Sherlock,_

_I've professed to you many times how dangerous my position in the government can be, have I not? However, it wasn't until a week ago that the gravity of those words truly sank in._

_The story has not gone public, and likely never will, but some ten days ago, a job to be carried out by the MI6 went terribly, irrefutably wrong. The terrorists had our moves traced from the very start, and I soon found myself and several of my men being held hostage in some remote hideaway. The things I saw there, Sherlock, the things they did to me, to my men…I would never wish on anyone. The situation seemed hopeless. Already two comrades perished after four days of imprisonment, and I was convinced my end was near as well._

_I could not stop thinking of you, dear brother, and all of the things I wished I could have said to you. Even now, in hospital, those same thoughts run through my head. I was lucky enough to escape this time, but what about the next? I may not be so fortunate. _

_I've told you before that caring is not an advantage. However, you are my brother, Sherlock, and I will never stop caring about you._

_Your brother,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

Mycroft could feel the medication-induced drowsiness clouding his consciousness as he signed his name on the letter. Barely able to hold his pen any longer, he set the legal pad and writing utensil on his bedside table. He soon fell into a drugged, dreamless sleep.

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**12 February 2004**

_Dearest Sherlock,_

_I never imagined that reaching thirty-six years of age would cause me to feel so old. When I awoke this morning, I barely recognized the man staring back at me from the mirror. My hair has already begun to thin and recede; occasionally I spot faint grey hairs peppered about my scalp._

_If the dangerous nature of my position doesn't kill me first, the stress alone will send me to an early grave, I'm sure._

_You're still so young, Sherlock. Do not let your youth slip away._

_Yours,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

_P.S. Thank you for sending over the red velvet cake for my birthday. Even your scathing note about my failing diet was a welcome gesture._

After folding up the letter and hiding it away forever in his desk drawer, Mycroft stabbed a fork into the awaiting dessert before him. He'd allow himself just this one simple pleasure on his birthday, indulge himself for this one evening. His diet could wait until tomorrow.

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**4 June 2007**

_Dearest Sherlock,_

_I do believe congratulations are in order, brother. Your first case solved for Scotland Yard. Finally, you've begun to put your talents to use, and even started to create a name for yourself._

_I must warn you, however—once you become well-known amongst the masses, you will inevitably draw out and create some dangerous enemies. You must prepare yourself. This is the advice I give you, as your brother._

_Mummy will be in tears when she learns how high-risk her sons' careers are. Do help me console her, would you?_

_Yours,_

_Mycroft_

Almost immediately after his pen hit the desktop, Mycroft already had the phone receiver in his hand. Time to phone Detective Inspector Lestrade to threaten—no, _ensure_ that he would keep Sherlock out of harm's way.

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**1 Feb 2010**

_My Dearest Sherlock,_

_I am truly happy that you have met Dr. Watson._

_Should anything happen to me, I now know that I will be leaving you in capable hands._

_Love,_

_Mycroft_

Sherlock would never admit to the small smile that stole across his lips every time he read the letter. Nor would he admit to the warm, fuzzy feeling he involuntarily felt for his big brother ever since finding the piece of paper, now well-worn with the frequency Sherlock had perused its contents, abandoned on the floor of his and John's flat. Mycroft had dropped it during one of his numerous unannounced visits. Unknowingly, too, for he hadn't called upon Sherlock in search of it. Sherlock had yet to allow John to see it, though he was sure his friend would appreciate the kind words—really, that Mycroft trusted John was probably the highest compliment the ex-soldier could ever receive.

Mycroft really ought to be more careful about letting his heart show, Sherlock thought. But for the first time in a long time, the younger Holmes didn't see fit to exploit this momentary weakness.

They were both just as human as the other—just as capable of emotion, just as capable of death. Maybe, just maybe, they could one day overcome their differences.

For now, though, Sherlock decided to keep this letter his little secret.

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Mycroft's birthday was my favourite part to write. What did you guys think?

Until next time,  
Chibi


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